Well my little belly-dweller, we have made it past the 30 week mark. I don’t know about you, but for me this pregnancy has both crawled and whizzed by. Some days it feels like I’ve been pregnant forever, and when we were having complications it felt like we would never get to the safety zone. Other days I can’t believe that we are almost at the point when your big sister was born. As in, this weekend. Which I will be spending with my legs crossed. So don’t get any ideas.
We’ve been through a lot, you and I. From morning sickness, to hernia heartburn flare ups that landed us in the ER, to unexplained bleeds and cramps, to riding in an ambulance for an emergency ultrasound, to gallbladder attacks – it’s been a crazy pregnancy. Yet through it all, you’ve stayed cool. I guess my womb (or… y’know, the half of it that you get. Sorry about that.) is a pretty sheltered place because you took everything in stride. Your heartbeat was always strong and in ultrasounds nothing alarming has showed up. You are pretty private and like to make most technicians work for a good picture, and you threw a pretty violent hissy fit the first time they did a non stress test (NST). But I like that. You’re feisty. So even when I’m staring at my tummy bouncing around while you try in vain to get away from the doplars trying to monitor your heartrate, even while I’m trying to maneuver you out of my ribs, even while a NST took almost double the amount of time because you kept trying to beat up the machine, I’m glad. You need to be feisty.
I’m pretty excited about you, Taterhead. You scared me at first. As much as I needed a reason to live after your big sister died, the thought of enduring another pregnancy and possible premature birth terrified me. My grief over Rory was so close and raw the thought of a future with a new baby seemed surreal and impossible.
But not anymore.
You are beautiful and perfect and my heart has already grown to make room for you. I know when I see you, when I hold you, I will once again experience waves of love sweeping over me. I love you for you. You are my Tater. You are my second child. You are loved, wanted, and needed.
You aren’t a condolence prize. But you are a comfort. You are a new beginning. And as hard as that is sometimes, I’m good with it. I miss your sister. Even though you’ll never meet her here, I think you’ll miss her too. I’m sorry we both have to miss out on her life. But she will always be a part of our family, and you will always know that.
I love feeling you kick and roll, jump and flail. Even when you startle me or decide your foot needs to be up in my ribs where I’d like my lungs to remain, I love knowing you are there. I love watching my belly grow. Sure it would be nice if it was detachable and I could make your Daddy carry you around for awhile, but I do love the time we get to spend together. I bet all daddies are just a little bit jealous that us mommies get head starts bonding with you babies.
I love you, Tater. I know it’s getting a little crammed in there, but maybe take up yoga or something and fold a little tighter. I think your big sister made some room for you in there, so if you don’t mind, stay put for awhile. I’m excited to see you and hold you, but I can wait. Stay safe and grow, grow, grow. And stop kicking my bladder. It’s not polite.